


drunk in your binds

by carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Game, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rope Bondage, Ropespace, Shibari, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 03:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15832896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: Dirk Strider is highly susceptible to rope space, especially in the hands of Jake English.





	drunk in your binds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JE_Lea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JE_Lea/gifts).



> My requester gave me a full Dirkjake greenlight, I hope this lives up to your expectations!

It’s terrifying. 

It really shouldn’t be, sitting cross legged on generic blue carpet, hunched over as people slowly trickle through the door. 

But. You signed up for this. You asked for it.

You run a hand through your hair, suddenly self conscious that the front is getting wispy again, even though you spent far too long styling it in the bathroom beforehand. You scoot yourself until your back is pressed against the wall, which offers next to no stability for how you’re feeling. At least you aren’t slouching as much now. 

The regret for signing up for this is starting to sink in. Well, more like you’ve been frothing in it ever since you stepped through the door. Now you’re frozen to your seat and standing means having to face more people and you don’t think you could do that. You thought you could corner yourself when you drank two beers and emailed the teacher, or shibari master you suppose you should say. It was scarily easy then. The agreement was to pay up front and you would be paired up with someone who would practice ties on your for two hours, or at least tolerate you for the class duration. 

Being the anime nerd you are, you’re plenty familiar with rope bondage. Actually, you’re just a kinky asshole and you’ve been devouring shibari rope bondage manga for longer than you can recall. But you’d never sought out the experience for yourself before, despite having read as much as the internet could offer nearly twice over.  
That one night you sat down at your computer to look at some more and told yourself enough is enough, you’re a young guy, you should be able to find someone who would at least practice on you for a bit, right? Obviously you don’t expect it to lead anywhere. 

Now you’re sitting in a personal rope dojo owned by a man who trained under one of the most famous shibari practitioners of all time. 

You’d wavered over the send button of that message for a long time.  
The reply was swift, with the instructor immediately following up that he had someone who would love to practice on you.  
You remember reading that message and swallowing, feeling your heart jump. This was actually happening. 

People are slowly filtering through the door, each of them shoeless in the rope dojo. Every time someone steps through the doorway your eyes whip up. Each time your shoulders fall in disappointment, as so far it’s all couples that have come together. You’re unable to think about anything other than who the person you’re about to meet is, how they ended up here with you, and whether they’ll want to even tie you. Maybe they’ll take one look at you and say no. That’s when a man steps through the door alone. He’s wearing the baggiest pair of cargo shorts you’ve ever seen with a belt holding them up at his waist over a skin tight black shirt. The shorts billow out in a sort of unflattering manner, but the shirt surely does not. It clings to him tightly, you can make out the muscles of his abdomen. His deltoids are a perfect round that pronounces his shoudlerspan. He looks more like he should be on a camping trip, not about to tie someone up, although that also oddly makes sense. You absorb his features, black hair and dark skin. His eyes are covered by a pair of rectangular black glasses and you haven’t been able to see them yet.

He goes to greet the instructor and bows forward a little bit as he asks them a question. Their eyebrows raise and they nod, gesturing over to you. You had hunched over into your lap again but your spine snaps up straight as the dark-featured man rotates to look at you. Deep green eyes land on you through clear lenses. Your throat constricts and you swallow dryly. 

Is that him? Are you really that lucky? Is he disappointed? Pleased? 

A smile cracks his face and your heart has definitely stopped now. Your eyes trace his jawline and it’s perfect enough to make your stomach ache. He beelines to you, stepping over a couple that’s seated in front of you. You rush to stand up, nearly tripping over your crossed legs. To steady yourself you throw a hand at the wall and push yourself up. He’s suddenly in front of you, holding out a hand and wearing an outrageous smile. It should be illegal.

“Howdy there, the name’s Jake. Our friend up there let me know you’re my victim tonight?”

You lick your lips, throat suddenly tight and dry. You manage to breath out a response. “Yeah. Uh, I’m Dirk.” 

You are so lame. 

Jake seems to not notice the hesitation. Your hands finally meet and he gives one enthusiastic shake before dropping your limb. His hands are rough and your stomach trills at the thought of them on you.

Wow, that thought was way far out the gate. 

“Right-o! My gosh, you know my friend up there told me he caught a looker and boy was he understating! Don’t take that the wrong way… hm.” He trails off and his eyes flit away for a moment. His words don’t entirely register. 

In the moment of silence you loosen your jaw to speak. “You don’t have to pretend if you don’t want to, dude,” you say weakly. 

He shakes his head rather vigorously. “No! No, pretending here I swear. I just, wow I’m really messing this up, I haven’t actually done that much of this on other people? Much less, on attractive people. We should sit,” he steamrolls on. You nod weakly, still entirely stunned by this man next to you. If only those shorts were a little tighter... 

His legs collapse to the ground as he sits down. You follow him back to your seated spot, feeling more and more awkward and constrained in your jeans as the seconds tick by. There’s another pulse-stopping grin on his face and oh, it aches.  
No, there’s no way you’re going to survive this class. 

“So tell me a bit about yourself, I figure if we’re about to embark on this journey together you could at least do me that service. Particularly what led you here, that’d be mighty helpful for me.” He rests his chin in one palm and leans on his knee as he looks at you expectantly. 

You flash your eyes over to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Right. 

You suck in a breath. “Yeah, sure. I don’t know. I always thought about it. Read like, a shit ton of stuff about it online. But this is my first time doing… this.” Your hands grip at your knees but he doesn’t notice. 

In fact, he grins. “Oh? I’m honored to be your first experience. It’ll be my duty not to muck it up for you forever.”

“Yeah, I guess? Don’t think you need to worry about that. What about you, I thought you were the guy that knew what they were doing.”

“Oh well, that’s just the thing. I do. Well, I mean, I got loads of practice, just… mostly on myself.”

You realize what he’s saying and open your mouth to ask him what he means by that, but you’re interrupted by the instructor clapping their hands and starting the class.

Over the next fifteen minutes, you’re given a flash history lesson on shibari in Japan. 

You learn about the Edo period and the Tokugawa shogunate in the capital of Japan. Hojojutsu was the type of rope binding developed to restrain criminals by local police. However, high ranking officials would get drunk during peacetime and were arrested, but to avoid embarrassing them the police had to tie the officials up in a very specific way. This method of tying without knots was very similar to the method of tying used today in shibari. 

Jake leans over to whisper, “How entirely inhomoerotic.” 

You snort but continue to listen. The shibari master goes on to detail the how when society was stable, punishment and torture of prisoners using rope bondage became a public affair. Soon, this torture was depicted for artistic purposes, and turned into sex and torture that was depicted ubiquitously in Japanese art during those following decades. 

This segues into discussion of how women who misbehaved were publicly bound, exposed and humiliated. Today, these themes still stand true, with how shame is still implicit in the act of tying rope, with goals to remove power and expose. 

Your cheeks are warm. You haven’t even done any tying yet and you already feel exposed just by the history lesson. Just your presence there makes you feel transparent. The urge to leave grows stronger but you notice Jake is looking at you and meet his eyes. Suddenly it’s impossible to imagine walking out the door without him at least putting his hands on you. 

Your face must be a shameful shade of red. 

“Shall we?” He smiles. 

You’re sunk. 

You both help yourselves to your feet and he goes to pick up a length of hemp rope. Before you know it the instructors have each of the couples standing and facing each other. You shiver and realize that’s kind of what you and him are right now. 

Jake is standing before you with smirking eyes. Breathing is impossible. 

The instructor starts to speak. “Now, I always like to start off the class by asking permission. Those tying, please turn to your partner and ask them if they are okay with being touched. Those being tied, if you would say yes so we can get things going that’d be great. Preferably with some enthusiasm, we love consent around here.” 

Jake turns to you and your skin feels hot under your clothes. “Are you alright with me laying these fancible phalanges on you?” He asks, absolutely ridiculously, and can’t seem to help his smile as he wiggles some of those said fingers in the air. 

He waits for you and you realize you’re taking way too long to respond to such a simple question. “Yes!” You all but blurt out. Well, they did encourage enthusiastic consent. 

You didn’t think his smile could get bigger but it does and it does terrible things to your entire being. Why is he looking at you like that? 

The lights in this room are far too bright. There’s too many people. Theres’s—

“Now, I know this isn’t exactly yoga class, but those of you that will be tying, this is important for you. Right now, I would like you to set an intention for this session. Ask yourself, riggers, how would you like your rope bottom to feel? What do you want to get out of this, and what do you want them to get out of this?” The instructor continues after determining the attendees have consented. 

Jake’s eyes flash up and down your body and you swear that grin turns into a full on smirk for a single second before falling back into that playful visage. 

He hasn’t touched you yet and you’re glad for it because you will surely combust the moment he does. His gaze on you is worse than a million eyes on your back. 

“Now, when you take your bottom’s hand for the first tie, I want you to let that intention flow through the motion into them. They will feel it, trust me.”

You lift your hand to meet him in the middle but he shakes his head. “Put your hand down. That’s not your job.” His tone is commanding, confident. Your hand drops out of the air pathetically and you squint at him, uncomprehending. He nods affirmatively but doesn’t elaborate. 

Finally, his free hand that isn’t holding the first length of rope reaches down and grasps your wrist. His eyes do not stray from yours. The moment his fingers touch your wrist you swear you feel… something. It’s like trickling heat that starts in the crown of your head and drips in a single uniform sheet down the back of your neck, flowing into your spine. It wraps around your entire being and it’s warm, like the blooming warm you get after a few drinks. Everything that isn’t Jake becomes faraway and blurry, like the world is zooming out around you both. 

He brings your wrist out in front of you and you’d never thought such a simple motion could convey so much. If as much as a touch could do that, then what’s the rest of this night going to do? 

You’re not sure if he feels it too, or if he feels anything at all. But he rolls his shoulders back and resets his stance, widening his legs slightly. 

And then as if he’s done it a million times, he leads the length of rope up and winds it into the first tie around your wrist. He lets go to do it, but pulls the rest of the length so that it’s like a tether between you both. 

That warm sensation doesn’t recede but changes form into something that prickles your scalp. You think your jaw has slackened somewhat but you can’t pay attention to it. 

The instructor says something and breaks whatever spell you’re under. Your back goes ramrod straight as your shoulders snap back. 

The pleased smirk slips off Jake’s face and becomes something like concern. “You alright there, chum?”

 _Chum._ You find yourself unable to look at anything that isn’t the neat tie around your right wrist and nod. 

“Dirk? You look like you’ve swallowed a lemon. We can stop if you want,” he offers and sounds uncertain, even shakey. A thought breezes through you that he might be as nervous as you are despite his collected exterior. It’s a very small comfort. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you squeeze out. God, this is embarrassing. 

The instructor is taking their time with teaching the other couples but it seems that Jake already knows what he’s doing, more or less. 

His downturned lips show he isn’t entirely convinced. “I’m going to do the next tie, is that alright?”

You nod. His hand reaches down and grabs the other wrist hanging down at your side and brings it up to meet the other. 

The moment he touches you, it’s there again. That sensation. Your face is hot, you’re going to start sweating any second. You struggle to pull yourself out of it without giving away how insanely affected you are. 

You watch as he winds the tie around your other wrist with deft fingers in front of you. It’s so quick you can barely tell exactly what he’s doing but the motion itself strikes you as _beautiful_. Your wrists come together bound without actually being knotted together. 

He winds the rope around the double cuff, cinching your wrists together. And with that, you are now fully under his control. 

You aren’t expecting inky panic to rise up and meet the sheet of warmth coursing under your skin. Jake seems to notice that the line of your shoulders somehow go even stiffer. 

He leans forward into your space. 

“Dirk, _relax,_ ” he breathes quietly. He pulls the rest of the length of rope down to the working end, making the connection taut. You get a whiff of his scent, clean laundry you would love to lay your head in. 

You nod, still unable to take your eyes off the woven cuffs. It’s so strange how he just _has you_ like this. The rope is an inanimate link between you two that he breathes life into. He’s got you in his hands, holding you without actually holding you. It’s -- it’s not terrible. The panic abates some and you breath in one deep lungful as the rope pulls tight between you two like some kind of comfort, like his intention is implied in the motion. He wants you to relax. This is okay. Are you supposed to feel like this? Shit. Wait, no, stop, it’s fine. 

You lift your eyes up to meet his concerned expression. _Relax_ echoes in your mind. It seems like an impossible feat staring down such a face, but you manage to let your shoulders drop and sink into that warmth grazing your frontal lobe. 

He gives you a small smile, seemingly satisfied. 

“We’re gonna run through that again, sound good to you?” he asks, and his eyes look hopeful. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” you force yourself to respond even though your voice almost crackles dryly. 

“Excellent.” He grins with the full force of the sun and nods once as he starts to unwind the tie. 

He takes you through the same simple wrist cuff two more times. You don’t even know why he’s here. He’s obviously got further experience than this beginner’s class. 

But by the end of it you’re definitely sweating. Your face is hot. You aren’t even doing anything, just letting Jake put you in a simple cuff, why are you so warm? 

The instructor moves on to the next portion of the class. Now, the wrist tie is to be used to different things such as chest harnesses, or behind the back ties. 

Things become a bit more freeform after that. Jake winds you into the cuffs again but then pulls your cuffed wrists to your chest and starts to wrap the rope around your back and neck. It’s like a hug made out of hemp and you feel so ironically safe in the harness. 

“How’re you holding up there, Dirk?” Jake asks you when he steps back to admire his work. You don’t know if his eyes are appreciating the rope or you or you both by the way he scans you. 

The prickling heat over your body is so terribly intense now. It layers your thinking in a thick, lazy sheet, like bubbles in honey, and makes you unable to process anything outside of this moment, or anything at all. Coherent thoughts are a hassle you have to tread through. 

“Great,” you rasp. You almost answered his question with a nonsensical, ‘Yeah.’

He steps behind you and pulls the back of the chest harness. You distantly remember the instructor talking about how this tie made for a handle along the back and front, allowing for full control of the bottom by a simple pull. 

Jake tugs the harness from behind and you stumble back into him. “Easy, I’ve got you,” he says, far too close to your ear. You do feel it, though. It’s like Jake can control your entire body with a single finger. He puts a hand on each side of your upper arms.

“May I?” he asks.

You aren’t sure what he’s asking permission for but it doesn’t matter. He can put his hands wherever he wants. Usually you would shirk from this closeness however much you desperately wanted it, but you don’t have the brainspace to consider him not touching, controlling you like this. “Yes,” you breathe. 

He slips his hands to the front of your body and presses his chest to your back as he starts to take you out of the harness, allowing his hands to work around and in front of your body as he unleashes the rope from you. Each time he slips out a tie he runs it across your body, not letting the rope hang loose. The vibration transmits through the entire harness. You wonder what the effect of it would be if he did that between your legs. You absolutely hope he doesn’t ask to do that right now, because you would absolutely pop a boner and that is not an option in this room of people. 

His body is so warm against your back as he both envelopes and releases you at the same time. 

He finishes taking you out of the harness, but holds your remaining cuffed wrists out in front of you again, pausing. “I want to try that one behind the neck tie, is that alright with you?” he asks. You nod and almost wish he would stop asking you and just do it so you don’t have to bother wading through your mind. 

This tie leaves you feeling way more exposed and heated than anything you’ve tried since. It starts with the same wrist cuff in front of your body, but then your hands are pulled up and over your head, so that your elbows are in the air and the cuff is around the back of your neck. He then winds it around your chest, leaving your elbows in the air and armpits exposed.

You feel naked with your clothes on. 

The instructor is saying something in the background about how that’s the point, how this tie was meant to expose that part of the body, how shameful that was supposed to be historically, etcetera etcetera you aren’t really paying attention to them. 

Your attention is focused on how Jake’s eyes flit up and down your body. He seems contemplative. 

The instructor says something else and Jake snaps to attention. “Oh, gosh, what an absolutely selfish curmudgeon I am. Dirk, are you thirsty? We’ve been going for almost an hour and I’ve been so absorbed as to not even offer you a drink. Awful.” Jake waits for a second and you realize he asked you a question. 

You throat is dry and you nod once. 

“I should take you out of that tie first.” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you force out. His eyebrows draw together, seemingly confused, but then his face relaxes and he smiles. 

He dips to the corner to the room and returns with a chilled cup of water. The cup lifts to your lips and you sip. Your eyes meet his and some part of your brain realizes how absurd this must look. You become self conscious for a second, thinking about how you must look ridiculous like this, with your elbows awkwardly in the air, face red and probably wet with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

But your eyes meet his as you drink and all you can suddenly think about is the way he’s looking at you like you’re something to be devoured. “You look absolutely incredible like this,” he murmurs, seemingly echoing his thoughts and expression after you’ve drained the cup. 

Fuck. Your waking mind would vehemently deny it but. 

You can’t when he’s got you in this haze. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of that,” he sighs after putting the cup down. He sounds genuinely disappointed. You kind of want to tell him he doesn’t have to, he can leave you like this, he can just keep looking at you like that, and wow what the fuck did he do to your brain just now? 

The class finally ends, and you don’t know if it’s a mercy or a shame. It’s never going to happen again.

Jake seems to hesitate as people are wrapping up around you. The warmth of whatever you just experienced is starting to flow out of you, leaving you only slightly more coherent. 

“Would you perhaps like to do this again?” he asks. 

The question catches you off guard. “This class?”

“Oh, goodness no,” he laughs, that smirk in his eyes again. “Tie, just with me.”

What could Jake possibly want to do with you of all people? Well, a part of you _knows_ what he’s implying but, well, you’d assumed there’d be no way he would actually want to. 

“What do you mean,” you ask, mouth tacky. 

He cocks his head at you but realizes your wary expression. “Oh, Dirk,” he says softly and leans into your space again. “I know what you’ve seen. I believe you can apply your imagination a tad here.” 

Your mind instantly fills with images of people bound and exposed in ornate ties from everything you’ve looked at online and... oh. That not so deep part of your mind that had been silently praying for this bursts forward with rabid hope. 

You avoid his eyes and sense a return of your reddened face. “You want to do that…. With me,” you murmur, barely a question, staring at the floor just beside him. 

“Of course I do,” Jake answers, almost taken aback as he reads your incredulity. “That was… that was fantastic.” He reaches out toward you, but this bizarre place in time and space where he was allowed to touch you is gone. He stops himself. “I’d be missing something if I didn’t do this with you, at least once more.” 

You make yourself meet his eyes and regret it instantly at the weight of the longing in them.

“Alright.”

His face turns viciously pleased. “I promise to make it worth your while,” he winks at you. 

As if he has to worry about that. 

You agree to meet Jake there in a bit less than a week, and your hands tremble in half disbelief, half absolute striking fear as you exchange information. Apparently he knows the instructor and they’re okay with him using the space on his own. Who knew. 

Jake demands to walk you to your car. You try and fight him off but he won’t have it. It feels so strange to have someone demand to care for you like this, a foreign feeling that can’t possibly be real. 

You don’t really talk during the short walk to the parking lot. When you finally get to your vehicle he grins at you. 

“Can’t wait ‘til next time,” Jake grins, and takes off back to the building. 

You sit in your car with your head in your hands for an immeasurable amount of time, waiting for your breathing to calm down and mourning the loss of the rope-induced daze. You feel the ghost of the rope around your body and Jake’s quick hands. 

Jake’s hands that you’ll get to feel again in less than a week.

Shit. 

\---

Jake is waiting for you with crossed arms and a giant smile when you walk up to the building entrance. He is, thankfully, wearing actual pants this time. The dojo is located in a nondescript office building, you kind of wonder if the other people that work in the building even know it’s there. 

Jake shakes your hand again, but it feels unnecessary, even absurd considering the situation. However, he squeezes your palm as he grasps it and it’s less a greeting, more an embrace. 

He asks you easy questions, small talk, as you make your way into the building. You respond with clipped answers while soaking in your own awkward sphere. A complete foil to your own reserved manner, Jake appears to be nearly vibrating with excitement. When you get to the dojo space you both remove your shoes outside. 

Once inside he hands you a bottle of water and motions for you to go to sit on the couch in the corner of the room. The space appears different, hollow, without all the people there for the class. 

He sits down next to you. “I figured we should chat a little,” he starts as he opens his own bottle. “Get to know each other a little.” 

You relax your shoulders and nod. 

You find out he works for a large company, though he’s a bit tight-lipped about his exact involvement. You tell him you work in programming. 

“Why did you end up so fortuitously in that class?” he asks after most of the basics are out of the way. 

You purse your lips. “I dunno. I guess it’s something I always wanted to try?”

“Oh, come on now. You’re gonna have to give me more than that this time, friend.”

It takes a moment to dredge up the words. “I’ve always been into Japanese stuff. Like I said, I’ve read like a shit ton of manga. This whole shibari thing was kind of a common theme if you get what I’m saying.” Jake nods with a smile. “Why, what about you? You obviously seemed like you knew what you were doing. I kinda got the feeling the other night wasn’t your first time.” Goddammit, wrong choice of words. 

“I think you’re avoiding a bit of my question, Dirk,” he states, with a bit of that leery gleam in his eye again. 

“Not sure what you’re talking about.” 

Jake smiles but thankfully lets it go. “I’ll let you off the hook on that one for now. I’ll go on and give you the short version of how I got into this lovely art then?”

You nod and he starts. 

“When I was younger, I adored adventure films. I didn’t realize why at first, but my favorite part was when the adventurer or hero or what have you was caught, tied up, and left to an uncertain fate. Indiana Jones, James Bond, you get the idea. I fantasized being that hero, tied to the chair. At night on my lonesome I would research ties on the internet and practice them on myself. That’s when I learned the first shibari tie. Something about the style caught me,” he sighs, somewhat wistfully. “But eventually I realized I didn’t want to be the one who was tied up… I wanted to do the tying. I didn’t want to--” he stumbles over his words and pushes up his glasses. “I didn’t want to be the one having _things_ done to them, I wanted to do those things to someone else. When I was old enough I started to learn, officially. I found someone to practice on but they were… very particular. I didn’t have the connection with them. Like I had with you.”

He levels his eyes at you. “So yes, I guess you could say it wasn’t my first time, but it was certainly my first time connecting through the rope like they told me I would. Even when we were doing the most simple of ties. It was...” He swallows and gazes off in the distance before turning to look at you. “Incredible.” 

His gaze zaps you and a silence hangs between you both. 

So he did feel it too. That intense connection. The way you felt him pushing his motive through you with each slip or tug of the rope around your body. 

_Intimacy,_ whispers a part of your brain that you wish would shut up.

 _Do those things to someone else_ also echoes in your brain. What _things_ does he want to do to you? 

Jake continues. “And you, Dirk, you were just so good. I mean, a little wound up at first but once I got you to _let it go_ and let me _lead_ , well, I had you.” 

_You were good_. It was something you needed to hear that you didn’t know you needed to hear. You don’t really believe it, though. Your face gives way to a fast flush despite it. How are you even supposed to respond? “So uh, what exactly did you want to do here?” you quickly ask instead. “Did you just want to practice the same stuff or--” 

“Oh, heavens, no. I mean, mostly more complex ties and whatnot. I actually have…. Quite a bit more that I would like to try with you.” 

You aren’t expecting the heat in his words and it makes you shiver. “Like…. what….?” you draw out questioningly. 

“Well, that depends on you, Dirk. What are you comfortable with? Your limits, as they say.” 

You lean back and realize you hadn’t even thought about that yet. 

What _are_ you comfortable with Jake doing to you? What are you not comfortable with? The real answer is that you would probably let Jake do next to anything with you if he wanted. 

You don’t even know where to begin and making the words come out of your mouth of what you _want_ sounds next to impossible.

Why didn’t you think this through more? Well. That’s the whole point of this, if you’re being honest with yourself, which you’re not.

You don’t want to think. 

Jake gives you mercy, seeming to sense your struggle. He reaches out to you, finally breaking the strange threshold between your bodies, and gently takes your chin. You realize your gaze had drifted to carpet as he makes you look at him. “How about a little more of the same from the other day to start?” he offers with a smile. 

You might sag with relief though you yearn to list out the things you want him to do to you. 

He lets go of your chin and takes your hand, drawing you up to stand with him. You follow him and he leads you to the center of the room.

A couple of metal rings hang attached to the wooden awning and posts that make up the dojo space. He stops there and faces you. 

Jake steps closer, still not letting go of your hand. “Are you okay with being undressed, Dirk? Exposing yourself, just for me? I want to feel that connection with you again, as much as I possibly can.”

At least this part you knew was coming. You weren’t going to say no, but there was no way you even could have after that line. “Yes,” you respond in a whisper. 

Oh, does he grin. “Here, I’ll be back in just a moment. You go on and… do that now. Feel free to leave on your undergarments, though I won’t complain if you choose not to.” He winks at you and turns away, causing your neck to heat up again. 

He walks over to a closet in the corner and you turn around and steel yourself for this. You shrug off your shirt first and slip out of your pants. The lights dim down to over half of what it was, and you assume Jake is at the door messing with it. _Mood lighting_ , you think amusedly. Your clothes are tossed aside with your shades on top, a problem for later. 

“Gorgeous,” you hear him say behind you when you’re finally standing there in only your black boxer briefs, fighting the urge to cross your arms and just cover your pale skin. You look over your shoulder at him and force your body to follow. 

He’s holding a large black padded mat and has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He takes a few steps toward you and tosses the mat on the ground, under the rings attached to the posts. 

The bag falls to the floor besides the mat and he steps towards you. “Are you okay with me touching you?” he asks. 

“Dude,” you say. “I’m standing here naked at your own request, I think you can afford to stop asking me that at this point.”

Jake laughs softly in response but doesn’t comment. 

He steps forward and touches a hand to your face, which then trails down to your chest, grazing over a nipple. You shiver at the stimulation and his eyes dart to your face as he picks up the sensitive part of you. You’re so thankful for the dimmed lights. “Absolutely wonderful,” he murmurs. 

It’s hard to take the praise when you aren’t in the drugged embrace of the rope. You suck in a breath like he’s punched you. 

He steps away and opens the duffel bag, taking out several wrapped bundles of rope length. You observe a couple of other objects-- something that looks like a blindfold, and a couple of bandanas? And then a pair of rope-cutting scissors. He places a hand on the blindfold. “I’ve got half a mind to use this on you,” he states. 

“That’s fine,” you respond, absolutely too quickly. 

You recognize that wildly pleased expression on his face. He pops back up with a handful of rope and releases it, throwing the ends outs and then looking at you. “If you would stand right in the middle there, we can get started my friend.” He points to the center of the mat. The two steps you take to get there are some of the most awkward you’ve ever taken in your life.

Jake speaks again when you get there. “Do you trust me, Dirk?”

“Of course,” you respond quietly. 

“If something is wrong or you feel any numbness, say something, yes?” You nod, practically eager to be done with speaking. 

He pulls the first length taut and lets it go. And then just like the other night he reaches down to take your right wrist. 

You didn’t realize how hungry you were for that feeling again until it drenches you like hot rain pouring from the sky. Your brain immediately sinks into Jake’s sticky web as he winds the first single cuff around your wrist with those quick, practiced fingers. He puts your hand down again when you put the opposite one out in front of you. 

“None of that now, I don’t need your help.”

You look up from your cuffed wrist to see his smile, and leave your arm hanging dumbly at your side for him. He takes it and winds the second half of the rope cuff. Something about not helping him, letting him just take you limb by limb, makes it all the more potent. He cinches your wrists together with a little more jerk this time and you fall deeper into his dominion. You watch the small smile on his face as he works, and wonder what the sensation, or connection as he’d called it, feels like on his end. 

And then he pulls your wrists to the top of your sternum, and starts to wrap the rope around your body, fastening your wrists to you in that same self-hug from the other night. The sensation of the rope on your bare skin is quite different from it with clothes on. You like this better. _A lot_ better. 

He’s more on you this time, his body pressed closer and practically dominating yours as he works. The rope goes around the back of your neck, across the middle of your shoulder blades, back around your wrists and forearms. All another layer to keep you bound by him. As he moves, he deliberately runs the working ends of the rope along your body. It’s neither harsh or grating, just sensual. 

The rope wraps lower down your arms, now becoming a more complex tie than anything from the other night. Even as you watch there’s no way you’d know how to get yourself out of this if you needed to. 

He’s holding the rope taut behind your back and throws an arm around you, so that his forearm is almost pushing back on the front of your neck. He leans you to his chest so that you’re resting back into him. 

“Relax, Dirk,” he whispers in your ear. 

His words douse your body in warm sheets that tingle your skin. Otherwise, you don’t think your posture is any different than how you usually are. 

Though your shoulders are tight pretty much all the time. 

He winds the rope around you once more, and tightly cinches it in the back, causing you to almost jump again as the vibration travels through the entire set of ropes he has around you. 

Jake steps in front of you and you watch him as he does. He notices your wandering eyes and tuts. “I see the problem now,” he murmurs. 

He reaches down and plucks what you assumed to be the blindfold off the mat and pulls it down over your eyes. 

You can still see bits of light out of the blindfold, and you find another piece of cloth slipped over the blindfold and tied behind your head. It’s pure darkness now. You worry about losing your balance and widen your stance on the mat. 

Never have you been more vulnerable. You feel some panic, but it immediately drowns in the melting glaze of Jake’s power over you instead. A boon. Your waking self would fight this but you don’t have that in you at the moment. Your brain feels so deliriously light in this state, void of it’s usual thrashing cacophony. 

Jake’s hands are already on you with another length of rope. You realize now that he’s making some sort of pattern down your back and between your forearms, but in the process he’s binding you up so completely you could not even struggle from it. 

You hear him sigh and then there’s a hand on your shoulder with the other holding the rope handle on your back. 

“Kneel, Dirk. I’ve got you.”

You trust him. 

You sink on your knees for him, and then he lowers you down further so that your butt is seated on your heels. He kneels with you, his knees splayed out at your sides and wrapping two arms around you in a full backwards hug that envelops you. 

He smells like freshly laundered clothes.

“Let go,” he murmurs, and sways your body with his. “Dance with me.” 

One hand trails up and down your upper arm. 

You sink further. The rope is an embrace. You are more exposed than ever but somehow safe in the binds he’s placed on you, and safer still in his hypnotic work.

 _Let me lead_ , you remember him saying. 

The tension you carry like it’s your eternal responsibility goes out of your shoulders as he sways your body again. You hear him hum contentedly.

He releases you from the backwards hug and _feel him_ move around so that he’s kneeling in front of you. He keeps his hand on you, even as you can tell he’s leaning away for another bundle of rope, and you appreciate the ever constant contact he maintains with you. 

He brings you back up so that you are kneeling instead of sitting on your feet. You feel his hand touch one of yours, open your palm and squeeze it. He affirms that it’s warm and that none of your nerves and blood are compressed. You feel a flare of something like affection. You know it’s basic, practically a courtesy, but somehow you sense he’s saying he cares. 

You are drunk on whatever this all is. There is no other explanation for your thoughts. 

He moves around to your back again, just keeps surrounding you, dynamically following your body as his hands work away. You feel his breath on your skin and wonder if he tastes as comforting as he smells. 

And then you faintly notice that he’s wrapping the rope between your legs. Goddamn, you are going to get hard. 

You attempt to reach for control over your bodily processes and end up short.

If Jake notices, and you know he does, he thankfully doesn’t say anything. 

He works the rope between both of your legs, then winds it up over your hips to link with what’s over your arms and chest. You absolutely don’t gasp when the rope touches along where your arousal is making itself obvious. 

When that’s done, he runs a finger up and down the rope near your stomach, and you feel it transmit the vibration down to your groin.

Fuck. You were going to end up hard at the end of this no matter what. 

He lowers you down and lays your back on the mat. 

You’re thankful that your hands are tied forward instead of behind your back because this would surely be uncomfortable otherwise. Something cushions your head.

He extends both of your legs out and starts to cuff one of your ankles, but instead of tying it to your other one he pulls your foot back and ties it to your thigh as he rolls you onto your side. He leaves quite a margin so that it’s not uncomfortable.

It’s amazing how he can just _do this_ to your body. He’s holding back so much when he could just toss you around in this state. 

He checks on your hands again, and you feel him assessing the rope up near your shoulder where you know it could be compressing nerves. It’s not. You will yourself to open your mouth and tell him he doesn’t need to check but the words don’t come out. 

It’s all nice. Everything is good and warm and smells like Jake and you are inexplicably both naked and safe. 

Ever dynamic, he unties the rope from your thigh and guides your ankle back in front of you.

And then he’s got your head in his lap, cradling you as he runs lazy fingers down the patterns of rope, brushing your skin in between. 

There’s silence for a few moments before you hear him speak. 

“You’re beautiful like this. It’s lovely to see you finally just _let go_ ,” he murmurs. You can feel him start to stroke your cheek but everything is distant. “You seem pulled so tight all the time, like a rubber band about to snap.” 

He sighs heavily, but it’s a gratified sound. “And now look at you, lost in the sea, like you were always meant to be there.” 

He doesn’t say anything more, just holds your head and strokes your cheek and hair and body and you wish it would never stop so you would never have to think about anything ever again. 

Eventually, it does stop. 

Jake doesn’t even bother trying to get you to hold yourself up anymore, which you’re glad for because you don’t have any trust in your lower limbs at the moment. 

With your back on the ground, he unravels you, painstakingly slow, letting that rope run in long threads along your skin. 

He eventually gets you back to just the simple cuff and and helps you back on your knees. The cover comes off your eyes. They blink open to Jake gazing at you, terribly and painfully fond. Knelt in front of you, he slips you of the wrist cuff, the final barrier between you and reality. 

“Welcome back,” Jake murmurs, and reaches out to stroke your cheek, eyes lazily roaming your body that can still barely hold itself up. He does this for a few moments, not long enough, and you savor each brush of his thumb along your cheekbone. His hand withdraws and he sighs. It’s the first time since you both started that he hasn’t been touching you in some fashion. He rocks back on his feet to sit on the mat. “Take all the time you need.” 

As he starts to organize the rope he used, you assess yourself. Everything is still fuzzy, but you feel placid calm intermixed with inexplicable arousal. Your skin mourns for his touch already. And how long were you two even at it for? How could he make your body feel so drained yet renewed in such a short period? 

While you stew in the aftermath of his work, Jake finishes putting everything away. All that’s left is for you to actually get up. 

“You alright there?” he asks with an air of hesitancy, glancing over at you. 

“Mmmhmm,” you mumble and pull yourself to your feet, brain exerting a reluctant tug on the somatic parts of yourself. You dress and wait for Jake to finish, taking a moment to admire the leftover imprints of rope on your arms. 

He pops up again and looks at you across the rooms. “How was that?” He still sounds moderately hesitant. 

“Really fuckin’ amazing,” you respond in your usual deadpan manner. 

Jake gusts a laugh and smiles almost sheepishly at you. “You needed that,” he says and walks to you, taking your hand once more in both of his. He squeezes it between his palms. “And so did I.” He runs a finger down the length of your forearm, down the temporary rope markings left on your skin. The expression on his face is almost mournful as he drops your hand. “Thank you, Dirk.”

Now you’re bewildered. “Uh, shouldn’t I be the one to thank you?”

Jake laughs again softly as he picks up the bag and black mat off the ground. “There’s something rather special in making a man as high-strung as yourself putty in my hands.”

And there’s that fast-coursing flush again, rushing hotly over your face and down your neck. You could absolutely get addicted to what he does to you. In fact, you just might.

“You’re acting like this is the last time we’ll get to do this,” spills out of your mouth, barely of your own accord. 

Jake’s eyebrows raise as he turns to look at you. “Never said it had to be.” You see a quirk of a smile on the corner of his mouth. 

It shouldn’t strike up such twisting heat. You both didn’t even really do anything. 

You end up making plans to see Jake again next week and it’s not nearly soon enough. 

—-

At night you dream about Jake’s clean cotton scent enveloping you in a warm cocoon, and wake up in feverish arousal. 

-—

Nothing eventful happens the second time. 

He had texted you after your last meeting, the day after, just to check in and see how you were doing. You’re not used to the feeling of someone checking in on you. You consider broaching the subject of kicking things up a notch, rewrite the message five times, and then decide entirely against it. 

It goes about the same as the last time, minus Jake pulling you to the couch to talk beforehand. 

Your hands go bound behind your back. He puts you in a half suspension, holding your body up when he’s got you so hypnotized you can’t possibly stand on your own two feet. 

When you’re done and bonelessly laying back on the mat you realize you’re still painfully hard and Jake hadn’t said or done anything. 

You can’t bring yourself to ask him why. 

\---

The fourth meeting, you ask him a question as he pulls rope bundles from the bag and you undress. It’s something you hadn’t felt comfortable texting him in between your last session and this one, though you certainly could have. Jake checked in on you again after the last two times, and you two fell into easy conversation over messages. Well, ‘easy conversation’ as in you sitting and considering the best thing to say in between texts, as you are rather prone to doing when you aren’t having a face to face interaction. 

“Why do you even like doing this?” You ask. 

“Hm?” he says and looks up from the bag, apparently not having caught your question. 

“I mean like, what do you get out of tying. Is is the control?”

“Ah, I see. I suppose that’s part of it. The beauty as well. You’re really already irresistible, but then wrapped up for my eyes only I can’t stop looking at you.” 

He glances at you and you wonder if he can see that hot flush running through your skin, coming and leaving within seconds. But like waves lapping on a sandy beach, an anxious tide creeps up unexpectedly. 

He can’t possibly mean any of that. 

Jake continues. “But most of all it’s that silent conversation we have. And getting you to simmer down for more than a minute.” He winks at you, playful as always. 

You nod. The connection you two have is insanely powerful. And he does get you into a state no one has ever seen you in. You wonder if he actually enjoys doing that though, getting you to calm down. It probably gets frustrating. 

You’d get frustrated with yourself. 

Jake is holding the rope in front of you, about to start but hesitating. 

“Something wrong?” you ask. 

“Absolutely not. I was just wondering if…” he looks up at you and then away, running his hand down the length of rope and letting it go almost nervously. 

You wait for him to speak. 

“Oh, confound it. Never mind, Dirk.”

The hell was that? Something itches at you that you did something wrong and he just didn’t want to tell you. 

This session Jake gets your upper body folded up again with your arms tied near your waist. He lays you out on the ground and suspends one of your legs. You imagine you look rather ridiculous, but that doesn’t stop the brush of ropes between your legs from making you unstoppably hard. 

And as always, he sits by your head and runs slow fingers through your hair when he’s got you as cocooned as he wants you. 

When Jake gets you down and out of the ropes, he always leaves the cuffs for last. He seems to revel in seeing your eyes as he puts on the first tie and takes off the last. 

But this time when it’s just cuffed wrists and blindfold left on your eyes, he stills. You’re still so unbearably and obviously hard and nearly squirm wondering if he’s actually going to touch you. 

But then you feel the ghost of his breath on your face, feather light fingers along your cheek.

He presses his lips to yours and pulls away faster than you can register what just happened. 

And then the blindfold is off and your hands are freed and he doesn’t say anything, leaving you bizarrely turned on and starving for the feel of his lips. 

It’s like nothing happened. 

You must have made it up in the dreamy aftermath of the rope’s embrace and the feeling of Jake pressed against you. 

There’s no other explanation.

—-

During the week you feel traces of Jake on your body. The way he dominates you, works your body during those meetings are but a specter along your skin that you crave each day you don’t see him. 

You itch for _more_. You should have told him when you had the chance that he could undress you and make you his in more ways than he just does with his ties. But the moment is gone now because you just couldn’t open your goddamn mouth. 

You can’t even imagine what coming would feel like when he’s got you completely wrapped up at the whim of a single fingertip. You touch yourself at home and feel so detached from the heady confusion he induces in you. It’s agonizing. 

Like a seedling taking root, the anxious murmur gains volume after your last meeting. Maybe he doesn’t actually want that with you at all. Maybe he’s not even attracted to you, he’s just putting up with you because he roped himself into it the first time and and now he can’t bring himself to say no. Maybe he’ll tie with someone else who he doesn’t have to struggle with the first ten minutes to just stop being so goddamn uptight. 

You remember the ghostly kiss he pressed to your lips and berate yourself for making it up. Who the hell is so thirsty they literally imagine a kiss? 

And you know there’s no way he doesn’t see how hard you are. The fact that it’s gone entirely unnoticed, how badly you want him to touch you, sends irrational pangs to your chest. 

He continues his messages and the two of you talk about everything and anything unrelated to all of this. You like this strange camaraderie you have with him when he’s not busy wrapping you up like a present, though you ache for more. You don’t dare bring it up. 

You also say none of these things tugging at the fringes of your overworked mind when you see him the sixth time. 

For this session Jake has your hands tied above your head to the metal rings. More rope is attached to the pattern around your torso, making you just slightly weightless.

He binds your ankles together and something about this position is no longer calming. You’ve become so painfully aroused you might explode. 

And that’s when it happens. 

Jake presses up against your chest on the crisscrossing layer of ropes between your bodies. This isn’t unexpected. What’s unexpected is that you feel a hand suddenly palming at the erection under your briefs. 

You gasp and softly moan as he runs fingers up and down your length. You’d been desiring the scent of him so close to you, those talented fingers finally touching you. It’s surprising but so desperately wanted. 

The hand is yanked away too quickly and you cry out softly at the loss. You hear Jake curse lowly and then realize he’s hurriedly pulling the ropes off of you and letting you back on your feet, words tumbling out of his mouth that you don’t entirely comprehend yet. He pulls the blindfold off and releases your hands from above faster than you’ve ever seen him work before. 

“Dirk, I’m so sorry, that was so out of line. I shouldn’t… shit. I couldn’t help myself. I don’t, I don’t deserve to do this with you. You shouldn’t want to do this with me anymore,” he apologizes in a rush, avoiding your eyes as he backs away from the mat and rubs uncomfortably at his wrists. 

You blink owlishly, not understanding. “Why did you stop?” 

Jake snaps to your face. “What do you mean, why did I stop? I had to! Dirk, I _touched_ you, and didn’t even ask if I could!” He sounds nearly hysterical. 

You stare at him. “You could have,” you say, still rope dazed. “I wanted it.”

He gapes at you for several long seconds. “You wanted that?”

“Goddamn… Obviously,” you almost wheeze. “Haven’t you noticed how fucking hard I am whenever you’re done with me?” 

Jake scoffs. “Well of course but I mean, it’s an uncontrollable bodily reaction! Completely understandable.” 

You refuse to put your face in your hands. “No, Jake. That was an invitation, written and addressed directly to you, to feel me up.” 

“I—” Your statement seems to have him at a loss for words. “Hell’s bells Dirk, you never told me. And blast it, I never asked! Well, I certainly _wanted_ to but I didn’t want to push you, in case that wasn’t what you wanted.” 

You really never did tell Jake. You just… “I assumed you wouldn’t want to,” you say quietly. 

“Wouldn’t want to? Why on earth wouldn’t I want to, Dirk?”

It’s your turn to avoid his gaze now. “I’m not much to look at.” It’s barely a whisper. The anxiety crawls up and down your back. 

Jake startles at that. “Not much to—“ he exhales indignantly. “How many times do I—“ He can’t seem to find the right words. “Dirk, I can barely keep my eyes let alone my undisciplined hands off of you. You’re incredible, not only to look at but just be around! I can’t even stop myself from touching you when you don’t even want me to!” 

“That’s not true,” you say resolutely.

“What’s not true?”

“I said I wanted you to.”

“Dirk, I—“

You fist your hands at your side and fight how exposed you feel. “Jake, I’m gonna say this once and then I’m not going to say it again.” You pause to suck in a breath. “I want you to put me in those ropes and make me come so hard I see the fuckin’ milky way.”

His jaw shuts. “Oh, _Dirk_ ,” he breathes. 

And then he finally steps back to you and pulls your face to his as he claims your mouth like you always hoped he would. 

He takes a handful of your hair and kisses you hungrily. You’re unable to stop breathing him in as you finally press your body to his far-too-clothed one. 

Jake kisses you for another long few moments before he breaks away to kiss down the side of your neck, pulling your head to the side with his other hand. 

“What else will you let me do to you, Dirk?” He whispers in your ear, nibbles along the edge. You swallow thickly. “I have so many things I want to try on you.” It’s so heated you might melt right into him. 

“I…” Shit. “Tell me. Some of those things,” you rasp.

He smiles into your neck. “Are you sure? Some of my thoughts are so indecent, I don’t want to scare you away.”

He pulls your body to his a little more tightly. Fuck, you can feel he’s hard too. “Jake, _please_ ,” you beg, losing the last bit of composure you had left.

Your arms have gone to wrap around him. He reaches behind himself to grasp both of your hands and pulls away from you to bring your wrists together in front. 

It makes you instantly dizzy. The way you react to Jake restraining you is practically Pavlovian now.

“My first exceedingly lascivious thought is that I need to remind you how utterly _special_ you are, Dirk,” Jake whispers, and the fire you see in his eyes instantly terrifies you.

—

You clamp down at the knotted bandana gag in your mouth and lean your head forward. 

Jake has your hands done back around about one of the dojo’s wooden posts around the room, with your shoulder blades pressing into the smooth wooden block. 

Most notably, you are absolutely naked. This, now, is unbearable exposure. But you couldn’t stop him from pulling off your underwear after he’d tied your hands behind the post and shoved cloth in your mouth so you couldn’t protest. He’d followed that up by tying your ankles together again. 

You lean the back of your head against the post and close your eyes as Jake runs a decorative half-harness down your chest and attaches it around the pole so that you can’t slip down onto your knees. The potent magic he exerts on you courses woozily through your skull. 

He stills in front of you and trails a hand down your chest to your hip, where he circles his thumb over the sharp edge of bone there in a way that makes you whine pathetically. Despite the weighty feel of your self-consciousness, you are excessively turned on. 

You don’t need to look down to know from this position you are hard as a rock and have no way to hide it now. Shame streaks through your lungs as it meets that molten arousal in the bottom of your abdomen. 

Jake is apparently at all times inducing these duplicitous emotions in you. 

And he can very obviously see it. 

He leans forward and kisses your mouth, running a tongue along your bottom lip under the gag. 

And then he steps away and you flutter your eyes open at the loss of his body heat to see him standing several feet from you, eyes hungrily roaming your body. There is no hiding from the intensity of his gaze when the lighting is turned up all the way like this. It’s too bright. 

“How does it feel being so exposed for me, Dirk?” he says, so far away from you. He’s standing with crossed arms and you strain against the post. 

You feel absolutely fucked. 

“I suppose there’s a bit of a history lesson in order,” he continues when you obviously don’t respond. “This particular number is called the _tokonoma_ , or ‘position of honor.’ People in Japan would display favorite works of art, maybe flowers, on and around these posts. Placing it there meant it was an object of great beauty or importance.” He circles the post from several feet away, eyes never leaving your body. “When men would tie their beloved ones to the same post in such a fashion as I have done to you, it was to say they thought this person was was beautiful, something to be looked at and displayed, and to be held in high regard.”

He finishes his circle around you, still distant. “I know you don’t believe it, but you are beautiful, Dirk. I could never get tired of looking at you. And as much as I feel as if the world is missing out, I’m glad I’m the only one who sees you like this.” 

You moan into the cloth and lean your head back against the post, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could keep out his words. Undeterred, they drain through your head and into the strange coalescing center of your chest, where you sense for almost a second that you believe it. That you’re actually as _beautiful_ as he says you are. 

“For my eyes only,” he murmurs, closer to you now. You feel his hands over the expanse of your chest again. “I want to make you believe it, Dirk. I want you to know how perfect I see you as. Practically made for me.” 

You don’t dare open your eyes because there’s no way you could handle the way he’s looking at you, drinking you in with depthless green. 

“Open your eyes, Dirk,” he says. You lean your head forward and bring it back on the post, as if banging your head against it in frustration, but keep them squeezed shut. 

His hand brushes along your face and you feel him kiss your cheek, unfathomably tender. “Your eyes, Dirk. Let me see them.” 

You can’t deny him anymore. You open your eyes to see his own before you. He smiles brightly.

“You’re always so good for me,” he breathes as he kisses your covered mouth again. 

You can’t deal with this. You can’t handle him looking at you like that.

And then you especially can’t handle the way he slides down onto his knees in front of you, his hands sinking from your face and trailing down the woven art he’s left covering your chest, over the front of your pelvis, fingers halting right across the V shape of your stomach. 

Jake takes ahold of your length sticking out from your body. You hear that satisfied hum he makes when you’ve done something he likes, or relaxed more in his arms, or gotten you into some jelly-limbed mess on the mat, and you realize that this time, it’s because of _how hard you are_. 

He kisses just below your navel. “Absolutely wonderful,” he says, and then he must have dipped down because you feel his warm breath on your nether regions and squirm again, throwing your whole body into it but there is no give to your binds. 

And then there’s a sudden wet lick up the back of your length before warmth coats your dick in a tight circle. 

You toss your head back again and your shoulder blades dig into the wood behind you. The moan you release is muffled into the cloth. 

Jake doesn’t spare you even a little bit. He works that wet circle of heat down to your base, wetting you up and making sure he can just slide over you. He is slow, agonizingly slow, but his lips form a perfect tight seal. 

His hands slide over to take hold on the crest of your hips, rubbing those slow circles with his thumb on the bone. You gasp for air and refuse to look down on what is surely a spectacular sight. 

That mouth works you up and down, up and down, until he’s got you completely slicked up and you’re grinding the back of your head into the post. You give another test at wrenching your wrists forward and they don’t budge. 

You are truly caught in Jake’s web this time, and now he intends to devour you whole. 

He starts to work faster, that tight circle speeding up around you. 

You can’t look you can’t look you can’t look you can’t look 

You look. 

You want to reach forward and wrench Jake off of you, you want to run a hand through his hair as he works his mouth on you, you want him to throw you on your knees and have his way with your mouth instead, you want a million things, but you forget all of them when you see that Jake is looking up at you with half lidded eyes, almost lost in the motion of going down on you, as he pumps his head along your length. 

Your jerk forward and your body is caught by the ropes. Even so, Jake holds your hips firmly in his hands and keeps you still. 

The combination of his hands and the binds causes a dizzy wave to course your brain and ripple down your body. The rope-drugged sensation is thick already, you can’t handle the extra layer of Jake on the ground doing this to you. 

You watch him and don’t blink. 

He tightens around you, like a silent command. _Come for me, Dirk_. 

Your muscles clench and unclench in your stomach. He doesn’t relent. 

You watch him until you actually can’t because the orgasm wracks through your aloft body and tosses your head and forces your eyes closed and makes absurd sounds leave your mouth. Flames crest through your skin like chains of lightning and die out. Rope bites the skin at your wrists where you tug futilely against it. 

You come in his mouth some and then he pulls away and some of it must be on him now, as he continues to pump your cock with his hand. 

He slows as the aftershocks course through your body once, twice, and you sag back into your binds, eyes closed and chest heaving. 

Jake pulls himself to his feet and slips his shirt off, a stain of your come bordering the collar, and tosses it to the ground. 

And then he methodically takes you back out of the ropes, letting his hands linger on you with every movement. When the final tie holding you vertical is released you stumble forward into his arms. He helps you back over to the mat and pulls over a blanket. All the while he kisses your forehead and you blink curiously at him, reduced to a more than embarrassing limp puddle. He gets you settled in the blanket that smells like him and holds you in the steady cage of his arms as your breathing calms. 

“Do you get the idea now?” He murmurs in your ear. “How special you are? And how special I think you are?” You nod weakly and turn your head to tuck next to his chin. 

He doesn’t speak for a little while, just holds you and lets you bask.

And then he speaks again suddenly. “Will you let me take you out, now that I’ve stopped you from skittering away from me? If we’re going to make this a regular occasion, I must insist.”

You snort into his chest. “Wait, you mean you aren’t actually a serial killer in your other life like you’ve been hinting this whole time?”

Jake’s laugh shakes his shoulders. “I think you can rule that one out. Did you think all this was practice?”

“Something like that.”

“How does this Thursday sound?”

You freeze up. He… really wants that? He means it?

Jake senses your tension and the hand around your shoulder holds you a little tighter. “Dirk…?” He says hesitantly, sounding as strained nervous as you feel. 

You loosen, and feel him relax in response. “That sounds good,” you say. 

You mean it. 

Jake smiles and holds you a little tighter, and the perpetual knot in your chest slacks out and dissipates. 

You hope it never comes back. 

With Jake, that shouldn’t be a problem.


End file.
